


Pressure

by Szarka



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Autism, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Victorian era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-03
Updated: 2016-12-03
Packaged: 2018-09-06 03:25:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8732926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Szarka/pseuds/Szarka
Summary: At the end of a long case, Holmes is exhausted and on the rand of an overload, and tries to calm himself by sitting in a corner pressed against the wall.
Basically what I do all the time in situations like this, and Watson doing what I would like a really close friend to do with me.





	

**Author's Note:**

> 1) Sherlock Holmes is Autistic. No discussion. Also, I didn't use a concrete incarnation of him, just the general "Sherlock Holmes" image in my head.
> 
> 2) I've had in the last time several similar situations, where I just had to go and sit in a corner pressed against the walls. In one of these moments, I was trying to make up a wish fulfilment story with someone comforting somebody the way I would have liked in that moment, and Holmes and Watson were the easiest to project myself on to.
> 
> 3) This "friend" of mine wanted me to write it down at all cost "Just for the fun, and to actually finish a story." Well, darling, are you happy now? ;-)
> 
> So this is basically the fascinating story behind this fic no-one asked for. I hope someone likes it, that would make it all worthwhile. :-)

The case had not been a complicated one in retrospect, but had required an incredible amount of running around, talking to people and piecing little things together, so that John Watson felt in the end as if his head was swarming with bees. Sherlock Holmes had behaved in his usual hyperactive manner until the murderer was arrested, than excused himself and disappeared in the room they shared.

Downstairs in the inn where they stayed, the locals were having that important yearly celebration of something (some anniversary, as far as Watson understood) they couldn't have had if the Great Detective hadn't solved that murder in time. For this, they were extremely grateful to Mr. Sherlock Holmes. Who didn't show up.

Watson stayed with them for some time, but excused himself relatively quickly and went up to their chamber to check on his companion. First, he thought the room was empty, but than he saw that Holmes was sitting in the far corner, curled up on himself and pressed as tightly against the wall as possible, from time to time sobbing silently.

Watson's training as a war doctor included evaluating unexpected medical situations at first glance as accurately as possible. He also had some experience in matters of emotionally slightly unstable young men, who might just have received a severe emotional shock and were sent to the doctor to be calmed down. A list of the more important information appeared almost instantly before his eyes.

ONE : Holmes was clearly in some sort of distress, probably of emotional nature, since he knew of no physical injury.

TWO : He was sitting on the bare ground. He had taken off his coat and hat, but was otherwise wearing his normal clothes. It was this strange part of the year when one cannot tell if it's late autumn or early winter, so the evening temperatures already dropped well below zero. The fire had almost burned down, and the cold was creeping into the room.

THREE : The case had lasted two and a half days, meaning Holmes hadn't slept the previous two nights and not eaten for roughly the same period. Watson had to admit that he himself had been too busy to pay completely attention, so he couldn't tell how much his friend had drunk in this time, but it couldn't have been more than a couple of glasses of water.

FOUR : It didn't look as if he were drugged. This, at least, was good. He also wasn't doing the whole list of harmful / dangerous / illegal / thoughtless things Watson knew him to be capable of.

FIVE : There were some similarities to one other incident, some time ago. Watson had come home tired after a long time of running around seemingly aimlessly in London, and had been greeted by Mrs Hudson telling him that Mr. Holmes had already returned, but was in quite an agitated state of mind and had disappeared into his bedroom, which was much unlike his usual habits. When Holmes hadn't shown for a longer time, Watson had gone to his room, and found that he was sitting on the floor in the tight spot between the wall and the wardrobe that was just wide enough for a grown man's shoulders to fit in. He hadn't wanted to come out and asked Watson, a little harshly, to leave him alone. He had done so. Three days later, when they were sitting in silence by the fire, smoking, he had brought up the incident, asking Holmes what it was about the place between the wall and the wardrobe. He had just waved his hand and answered « Sometimes I like sitting in small places. The pressure of the walls calms me down. Don't you ? ». Watson had dismissed it as just another of his particularities.

SIX : It would be rather harmful to both their reputations if anyone would walk in on the following scene.

*** 

He solved point Six, Two and Three as well as he could by double locking the door and laying some more logs on the fire. Than he got the blanket from the closest bed and folded it. It did take some gentle persuasion, but in the end, he could get Holmes to sit on the blanket instead of the bare floor. Watson than laid the other blanket within reach of the corner, poured a glass of water and knelt by his friend.

« Holmes. Holmes ! » He squeezed him gently at the shoulder, until he was sure he had his attention. « Holmes, I need you to drink this. » Holmes threw one look at the glass, than shook his head, hugging his legs tighter to his chest.

« That was an order, Holmes. Drink. » Watson kept his voice down, but let just enough of the army doctor authority shine through to make sure that Holmes obeyed him. It worked. The man took the glass in his shaking hands and drank it.

« Well done. », said Watson gently. « Do you want more ? »

Holmes shook his head. « Please, no. », whispered he, pushing with his entire body against the wall as if he was trying to disappear through it.

Watson nodded and lay the empty glass aside. His next move was a bit of a guess, but he was quite sure that Holmes needed pressure at the moment, that he had been in this state before, and that he knew how to calm himself down. Only that his usual tactics of pressing himself against a wall didn't seem to work, probably because they weren't at home with his prepared niche.

« Holmes, » he said gently. « I am going to sit next to you and push you against the wall. Is that all right ? »

It took a little time, but Holmes nodded.

« Tell me when to stop. »

He sat down next to his friend, as close as possible, and leaned with his entire weight with his shoulder against his, first carefully, than harder. Holmes allowed the pressure, maybe tried a little to flee it by leaning against the wall. His body was shaking, and he let out a quiet sob from time to time.

« It is so loud. Watson, it is so loud. », muttered he, pressing his head against the wall. « Please, it is so loud. »

It was true that the celebration downstairs was quite noisy. They could hear the music and the voices through the walls and the closed doors. If it would have been any good, Watson would have gladly interrupted the party and sent everyone away, but he knew it would do only more harm if he tried. Instead, all he could do was push harder with his shoulder and whisper « I know. Ssssh, it's all right. » This made him feel really stupid, but Holmes fell quiet.

They sat together for a long time, the noise from downstairs only interrupted by the occasional sob from Holmes, or pointless shushing noise from Watson. Than, slowly, he could feel the detective relax a little, pushing less against the wall than laying against it. Ever so slowly, he straightened a little up, just to shift his weight and lean against his friend instead. The whole process took so long and happened in such little steps, that one could barely notice it happening at all, but to Watson, every bit of it felt like a triumph.

Carefully, Watson moved and laid his arm around his colleague. Holmes moved to adjust, shifting his head from Watson's shoulder to his chest and curling up in a tight ball in his arms against him. There he stayed, predictably for a very long time to come. Watson reached for the blanket and carefully wrapped it around both of them.

_I hope I really locked the door_ flashed through his head, as he laid also his other arm around his friend and started to gently caress his hair. It was a very strange, if agreeable feeling. At that moment, Holmes reminded him less of the incredible genius he really was, and more of a scared and hurt little animal. Besides, he didn't seem to object to this treatment, possibly even liked it. But it was true that if anyone walked in on them right now, they would have a very difficult time trying to explain what they were doing.

The fire had burned down again, but their combined body heat had warmed the air under the blanket more than enough. It had started to rain outside, the noise of the drops against the glass mixed to that of the people below, but it didn't seem to cause Holmes any pain any more. Sooner or later, Watson would have to try to get him in one of the beds somehow, but for the moment, both men were quite happy with the situation as it was.

As long as the door was locked, they would be all right. Everything was fine.


End file.
